


Hot Pink Banana

by allegoricalrose (SilentStars)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, F/M, Shower Sex, Sonic Dildo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentStars/pseuds/allegoricalrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten/Rose: The Doctor makes some...alterations to a device he finds in Rose's bedside table. Total crack!fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Pink Banana

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a lovely tumblr prompt from an anon: Ten/Rose; TARDIS library pool; Sonic dildo. You can imagine what fun I had coming up with a plot for this one! _Possible dub-con warning_

"Doctor, I know you’re ill, but—"

"Ill? Ha! Dying is more like it. Feast your eyes on me now, Rose, I might be bald and saggy the next time you see me. Or I might look like a two-year old and you’ll have to carry me everywhere. You never know, such is life. Or death, as it were."

"Yeah, but—" Rose pauses. "Wait. You could become a toddler?"

"Well, no. Maybe. Highly unlikely, but still…that’s not the point! The point is that I’m lying here, sickness and disease coursing through my veins—and other Time-Lordy blood vessels—and you’re just standing there, complaining about me gallantly choosing your bed as my final resting place."

She sighs and sits down on the edge of the other side of the bed. Well, the side that he’s least hogging, sprawled spread-eagle on his back across the middle. “I’m sorry for dismissing your, um, sickness and disease, it’s just that you don’t look sick and you said—”

"Quite right, no pain. One of the many advantages of Time Lord physiology. Just have to tweak my pain centres, shut down a few systems, and voila!"

"But—"

"I need to rest though, Rose," he says with a pout and widened eyes, "it’s the only way I’ll recover." He knows the puppy-dog expression works on her and he doesn’t hesitate to employ it when he wants something from her.

She smiles wryly and reaches over to sweep an imaginary strand of his perfectly coiffed hair away from his eyes. “Okay then. You can use my bed for as long as you like. I find it difficult to believe you don’t have one of your own, but it’s fine.”

His eyes twinkle for just a second before fashioning themselves into the picture of innocence. “Thanks.”

"But, um, it’s getting late, and I’m tired too, so…"

He breaks into a deep grin and flings back the edge of the duvet cover. “Then what are you standing around for? Get into bed!”

He doesn’t move his wide-stretched legs.

She raises an eyebrow.

He raises one back.

She knows she should be rolling her eyes at him and manages a vague loll of her pupils, but mostly she’s fighting to hold back the ridiculous smile that threatens to engulf her entire face. “Yeah?”

"Of course. My bed is your bed." He pats the mattress grandly and fixes his warm brown eyes on hers.

"Or the opposite," she mutters as she unties her dressing gown. Pleading with her body and brain to not make things awkward, she slips under the covers, wiggling herself so far to the edge that she crashes to the floor.

_Awesome. Not awkward at all._

"Rose? Are you okay?"

"Yup," she sighs and clamours back into bed. She shuffles around in the small space he’s allocated for her, finally giving up on not touching him when it becomes clear his long leg stretches to the far end of her side. Nudging him gently with her bare leg, he wiggles her toes against her foot but doesn’t otherwise shift.

Right. If that’s how he was going to play, Rose Tyler is nothing if not stubborn competition. She rolls over to his side to face him, draping a leg across his. He tenses up for only a moment before relaxing and turning his head toward her.

"Rose?"

She closes her eyes. “Yeah?”

"I…thanks for taking care of me."

Opening her eyes not at his words but at his surprisingly serious and just a little vulnerable tone, she takes in his open and eager expression. His slightly parted lips, the way the lamplight plays across his eyelashes, the pattern of freckles splayed across his left cheek… A tender smile draws up her mouth. “I’m not sure what I’ve done, but you’re welcome.”

"Should I…I mean, do you have enough room?"

Any slight irritation she may have felt vanishes. “I’m perfect.”

"Yeah," he breathes and again she feels his muscles tense up for a second. Every sound in the room becomes magnified: the quiet ticking of the clock on her nightstand, the steady puff of her breathing, the scratch of the sheets when he moves his leg beneath her. He turns onto his side, not disentangling his lower limbs from hers, and wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Suddenly her breathing isn’t quite so steady.

"Rose, I—" As always with that alien, something interrupts the sentences that seem the most important and this is no exception. "Achooo!" His eyes widen excitedly. "See! I’m ill!"

She wipes wet Time Lord biology off her face. “Tissues are in the drawer.” His hand is already on the handle when she realises her mistake. “Wait! I’ll, um—”

"Ooh, what’s this?" he asks, leaning over the open drawer.

She freezes, her mouth forming around words but none of them manage to eke out of her throat.

_Don’t touch it, don’t take it out, don’t—_

He lifts the object out with strange reverence, sitting up in bed. “Now this is beautiful. What is it, Rose? I’ve never seen anything like it…”

She begs the TARDIS to open up a pit and let her fall into it; she knows the clever ship could do it.

The bed remains solid.

"It’s, what, nine inches in length—"

_Ten._

"—about the circumference around as a banana…well, a quite thick banana… Rose, is this from that banana-worshiping planet I brought you to last week? And the week before that? Is it abstract art?"

"No," she groans and tries to curl up into herself. Maybe if she pretends to be asleep he’ll drop it.

"Then—oh! There’s a switch of some sort. Here, on the bottom…"

_For the love of god, don’t switch it on, don’t—_

Bzzzzzzzzzz!

The Doctor literally squeals with glee. “I wasn’t expecting that! A thick, pink banana that vibrates… Rose? Rooose?”

What was she thinking? Of course the hyperactive alien won’t let it go. “Doctor…” she mutters in as strict of a voice as she can muster with mortification racing through her bloodstream.

"But what is it? Why do you have a vibrating pink banana statue in your bedside table?"

Her entire face is beet red; he must be able to feel it radiating onto his own skin. “It’s a…vibrator.”

"Well, yes, that much as clear. What’s it for?"

She groans and pulls the sheet over her face. “It’s for…human females…I don’t know! I’m holding it for someone, I…” _Blatant lie; she uses it every single night. Stupid uninterested (and/or possibly unequipped) alien…_

"But what—"

Slamming the sheet down, she fixes him with a steely glare. “Leave it.”

He scrunches his forehead and rotates the vibrator in his long fingers.

_Oh, CRAP: she knows that look in his eyes…_

"No, don’t—"

His tongue darts out and then retreats back into his mouth. Eyes rolling upwards, she watches him analyse the gustatory input in horror.

"Latex and…antibacterial soap? What does this vibrator do that it gets dirty enough to wash?”

She says nothing, only beseeches the TARDIS for help again. She’s met only with the image, behind her eyes, of the Doctor sniffing the vibrator.

_Great, thanks. See if I tell off the Doctor next time he attempts repairs with a blowtorch._

"Rose? Why are you being so cagey? Oh!" She can almost see his eyes light up in realisation. She tentatively peeks an eye out from under the covers. "Is it a present? For me? Because I love it!"

"No, it’s not a present for you," she barely refrains from snapping, "and how can you love it? You don’t even understand what it is!"

He deflates slightly. “Oh. Um, well, I’d love anything you gave me, that’s how.”

Her humiliation fades for a moment and her clenched jaw relaxes slightly. “That’s…sweet. But sorry, it’s not a present, it’s…mine. It’s, um, it’s like a personal health…aid.”

" Personal health…Oh, is it a transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation device? I’ve heard of those: primitive pain relief devices." He swallows and searches her eyes in dread. "Are you hurt? Has all this travelling been too much lately? I know we do a lot of running… Tell you what, let’s take a few days off, maybe do a spa planet tomorrow."

She’s tempted to leave it at that; it’s the best possible out she’ll receive tonight. But the worry in his eyes, his anxiety over their running, her fear that one day she truly _won’t_ be able to keep up…

"It’s not for pain," she sighs, furiously flicking through possible technical terms for a dildo, "it’s for, um, autoerotic stimulation."

The words hang in the air and she watches him mouth the syllables. “Oh! But it’s a bit rubbish, isn’t it? Doesn’t seem very realistic…”

A laugh escapes her throat; a nervous, slightly hysterical at the surreality of the moment type of laugh. “Hot pink? No, not especially.”

Would this conversation ever end? Will they still be discussing her sex toy in fifty years time, still lying in her bed, her trying desperately not to touch any of his limbs? It feels like at least a year has already passed since he opened that damn drawer…

"No, I mean the vibration. Unless I have missed a vital component of human sexual physiology, I don’t recall the human male penile shaft possessing vibratory capabilities. So what’s the point of it on this?"

"Doctor…" she groans again, "aren’t you ill? Let’s just…go to sleep, yeah?"

"Rose, I don’t think I could possibly sleep while the mystery of this vibrating apparatus eludes me."

A stifled scream. “Fine. The vibration just…makes it feel better, I don’t know.”

"Oh… Okay, so this is a phallus-emulating device with enhanced tactile stimulation capacities, designed to promote pleasure in the human female. Yes?"

She nods, lips pursed.

"Is it used alone or as part of intercourse?"

"Either… Doctor, can we please just—"

He lies back on the bed, still examining the object. “It doesn’t seem maximally efficient, that’s all. I aced my coursework on the sexual response cycle of lower species in school, and I distinctly remember the importance of clitoral stimulation in human females. This device appears strictly vaginal in nature, so—”

His use of clinical and technical terminology should have reduced the embarrassment factor, it really should have, but instead she finds herself squirming in the sheets. In truth, she finds most of words that fall from his lips ( _no, not lips. Don’t think about his lips. Mouth. Mouth_ ) sexy so she shouldn’t be too surprised that him reciting regions of sexual anatomy sends a rush of blood and awareness between her legs.

"You can…move it around." Her tone is cringingly close to being a moan and she clamps her lips shut.

"Oh. Oh! Yes, I see now. But you know, it could still be much more efficient; if I’m calculating right (and I’m sure I am) the optimal rate of vibration would be a much higher frequency. I can fix that; I’ll make it more sonic for you!"

He looks so eager to please, a vaguely manic gleam in his eye, that she doesn’t even bother to protest, just forces her muscles to fall limp and shuts her eyes. “Fine, whatever. Thanks,” she mumbles in a monotone. She. Just. Wants. This. To. Be. Over.

The sonic whirls and she hears the sound of tiny screws dropping to the table. “You’re going to love this, Rose: complete sexual resolution in three point three seconds. Just think of how much time I’m saving you!”

An eye roll from behind closed eyes. “Yup, thanks.” She’ll buy another one next time he drops her off at mum’s. How she’ll survive until then, she doesn’t know, but there’s always the manual approach…

A few more buzzes of the sonic later, he drops the dildo unceremoniously onto her stomach. “There! Try it out!”

Her eyes snap open. “What?” she manages to choke out from her airless lungs.

"Test it: it’s so much more efficient now!" She’s refusing to look at him but can hear the proud grin in his words.

The door to her room will be locked from now on.

Hoping against hope he just wants her to _ooh_ and _ahh_ over it, she fumbles her fingers out of the sheets and resolutely switches it on; the faster she can get this over with, the better.

“ _Shit!_ ” She’s only holding it in her hand but a surge of arousal shoots down her spine so quickly she doesn’t have time to drop the vibrator in shock, instead fisting her fingers around it as a climax builds before she can even take another breath. It breaks over her like a wave crashing on the shore—no, more like a wrecking ball slamming into a building.

"Doct—ahhh!" she screams, moans, groans; she’s not even sure. All she knows is the blood is humming in her ears and she’s panting vigorously and her walls are still contracting and he’s watching her with an expression that’s mostly pride and satisfaction but it’s also something else, something she sees sometimes in his eyes after they’ve been separated and something else that she sees when they’re on the beach and she peels off her t-shirt and he fixes his eyes on the horizon and starts babbling about the aerodynamics of banana boats.

It’s still on, the bloody sonic dildo is still turned on, and she only barely has the strength of mind to switch it off and fling it to the floor before another wave of arousal crests.

"See? An improvement, right?"

She gapes at him, mouth and eyes wide open.

"Speechless, brilliant. But can’t you see how much more time you’ll have on your hands now? I made it waterproof, too; you can even use it in the pool!"

"The pool…"

"Yup! Or in the rain, the ocean, the…ooh, the bath. Anyway, good night, Rose. Sleep tight." He reaches over to switch off the light.

It’s dark, _finally_ , and he’s quiet, _finally_ , but she lies stiff as a board at his side. Sleep tight. An appropriate expression: she’s wound as taut as a coil. She wants to squirm, rub her thighs together, anything to relieve the white-hot need throbbing between her legs, but she’s also hyper-aware of his presence in the bed next to her.

Rolling over to face the wall and indulging in a sneaky bout of friction along the way, her heart stops when a moan bursts out of her throat before she can halt it. She freezes, every breath resounding across her ears like a cannon.

"Rose? Are you okay?"

She doesn’t answer, squeezes her eyes shut and focuses on steadying her breathing.

"Did you switch off the vibrator at the rising excitement phase of your arousal cycle? Maybe I should have included a longer refractory period…"

She squeaks and hurls herself out of bed but her feet tangle in the sheets and she falls to the floor for the second time that night. Her feet are still trapped in the jumble and she’s breathing heavily by the time she manages to extricate herself. When she looks up, she spots the Doctor peering down at her, one eyebrow raised.

"For me being the ill one, you’re acting quite strangely tonight. Maybe I should get you to the infirmary; you’re looking quite flushed, actually."

All at once, sprawled on the carpet, a pulsating need between her legs and her newly sonic vibrator poking at her under her back, she’s had enough.

"I’m horny, you bloody alien," she snaps, "what the hell is wrong with you? You can’t be that oblivious."

The bloody alien gulps and moves backward on the bed. “I…I know? I was trying to fix it for you and…”

"A sonic dildo that gives you an orgasm in _three point fucking whatever_ seconds is not the way to fix that!” She stands up and glowers at him. “I’m going to take a shower and have a wank and if I hear you calling out tips or advice from behind the door I’ll deck you. Got it?”

"I don’t see why…" he begins but trails off at the look on her face. "But—"

"Don’t you dare." Spinning on her heel, she storms off to the ensuite. 

She strips off her pajamas and ducks into the shower before the water’s had time to heat up. Glaring at every single tile, every corner and edge, she grabs the shampoo and squirts far too much into her hand, kneading it roughly into her scalp.

There’s a knock and she stills. “Rose?”

"I swear to god, Doctor…

"No, I… I think the illness has been fought off, I’m feeling better now."

"Fan-bloody-tastic."

"I need…can I talk to you? Please?" There’s a hitch in his voice.

"No! Sod off."

She doesn’t hear anything else for a minute or so and she returns to the shampoo, rinsing it out and applying conditioner. As it sits in her hair, soaking in, she finally reaches down between her folds and rapidly begins rubbing at her clit. Definitely what the conditioner manufacturers intended when they recommended leaving the product in for 3-5 minutes. Closing her eyes, she lets the warmth produced by her skilled (too skilled) movements wash over her whole body.

There’s a loud crash, jarring her from her happy thoughts, and from behind the fog of the glass wall she can just make out the Doctor stumbling through the splintered bathroom door, looking startled at his own actions.

She’s too far gone and her fantasies about the Doctor performing this exact action are too vivid to bother protesting or covering herself. Instead she looks the panting man straight in the eyes and continues to rub tight circles around her swollen bud.

"Rose," he growls, carefully keeping his eyes on her face.

The heat surging through her body makes her brazen. “What, are you going to _help_ me again? Should I be rubbing counterclockwise, perhaps? Will it go faster if I apply more pressure?”

Even through the steam she can see his eyes darken. “It strikes me,” he grinds out in a hoarse voice, “that this kind of thing isn’t optimal when performed alone.”

"Then come optimise it."

He moves so quickly, pouncing like a panther on its prey, that she doesn’t resister the door opening or the way he tears off his clothes. All she knows is that one moment he’s standing outside, eying her like a gurgling spring in the desert, and the next she’s pinned to the wall of the shower, a naked and patently aroused Time Lord pressing his hips into hers and sinking his teeth into her neck.

"Fucking hell, Rose, do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this? To feel this?" He punctuates his words with a firm thrust of his pelvis against hers as he groans into her skin. Her hips buck back involuntarily and she mirrors his greedy sound before latching her lips onto the top of his shoulder.

A thought subdues her like a bucket of ice water over her body. “Wait, wait,” she gasps but he takes little heed, only disengaging his lips with a loud _pop_ before planting a line of kisses up to her jaw. At the same time, he slides his hands up her ribcage and brushes the tips of his fingers lightly along the underside of her breasts. “No, stop,” she pants, wanting the exact opposite but needing to understand his motives.

He turns rigid at her words and quickly backs away, breathing heavily from the other side of the admittedly small shower stall. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

"No, no," she reassures him hastily, trying to keep her eyes on his face rather than salaciously skimming across his naked body, "it’s not that. It’s…well, back there, in…bed… You were completely uninterested. You watched me have an orgasm and it didn’t affect you at all. Are you…are you just experimenting or, um, studying the human sex cycle or whatever again? Or, I don’t know, just trying to make me feel better? Because that’s not your job, you know…" She holds her breath and forces herself to meet his eye.

A bashful smile rises slowly up his lips and he blushes, looking down at the water swirling around the drain. “I… The illness, I had to shut down some systems. My sexual arousal system was one of them. I…I kind of took advantage of it being offline to ask to stay in your bed; I’ve always wanted to hold you while you sleep but…I wouldn’t be able to trust myself usually.” He tentatively looks up at her.

His eyelashes are coated in dewdrops from the shower and they glimmer in the dimmed overhead lights. There’s a flicker of light in the centre of his eyes and she glances outside the stall to see a sloping array of lit candles on the sink counter. She forgives the TARDIS, just a little bit.

She steps forward and holds out her hand. He takes it, threading her fingers between his own before raises it to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, she moves until she’s pinned him to the wall and rises onto her tiptoes to kiss him.

For their first real, proper, in-body, in-mind, day-and night-dreamed-about-but-never-acted-upon kiss, it’s surprisingly gentle and unhurried. He tilts his head just right to maximise their connection and they pull at each others’ lips like they’re patiently trying to absorb them into their own souls.

And then it’s not unhurried, it’s the opposite; it’s needy and urgent and necessary and the culmination of years of holding back. She swipes her tongue across the seam of his lips and he opens up before she’s even halfway across. He allows her only a few seconds of exploration before he darts his tongue into her mouth, stroking the top of her mouth in such a way that sends lines of fire straight down to her sopping wet folds.

"Doctor," she moans against his covetous lips and he grinds his rock hard length into her centre in response. She can’t help rutting against his erection, desperate for the friction she’s been aching for all night, and he quickly steps them forward to regain the power and push her against the wall.

"Rose…I need you, please…" he begs, still thrusting against her. His cock slides between her folds and brushes against her clit and she almost screams at the sensation.

It’s not going to work in the shower, it’s not: it’s too small and too slippery and there’s nothing she can hold for purchase but she needs him inside her now and she can tell from the way his cock shudders and his balls tighten that he’s skating on the edge too.

And then she blinks and there’s a wide ledge in the tile wall, about waist high, and she utterly and completely forgives the TARDIS.

He grasps her firmly across the hips and lifts her up to sit along the shelf, pulling her knees apart and moving to stand between them. They’re both panting, muscles tense and hearts racing, and the water continues to drip over their heads and down their faces.

"Inside. Now," she gasps and wraps her legs around his slick waist, pulling him closer. His tip slips inside, just a fraction of an inch, and they both moan in pleasure. He pulls back and she feels her walls clenching frenziedly around nothingness.

"You’re sure?" he forces out between heavy breaths, obviously using every last morsel of restraint he possesses, and pulls her chin up to meet her eyes.

"I’ve never been more sure of anything, please, Doctor,” she whimpers and reaches down between them to line up his cock with her entrance. Holding herself still is more difficult that she could have possibly imagined but she has to let him take the final step, the final plunge.

He plunges.

In one move he’s fully inside her, gasping at her heat and groaning at how wet she is. She realises, now, that she hadn’t even had the chance to see his cock but from the feel of it, stretching her so fully it borders on pain, he’s at least approximately human in shape and large. Quite large.

Larger than a pink vibrating banana, anyway.

After a moment, the vague discomfort becomes less important than her need for him start moving. Arching her hips toward him, she tries to galvanise him into action, clenching her internal muscles around him and digging her nails into his back.

"Doctor…"

He speedily stills her, one hand on her hips and the other gripping her arm like he’s afraid she’ll blow away.

Ah. Or afraid that he’ll blow up.

"I’m close, don’t worry, just…"

Without pulling out of her, he twists his hips and puts one knee up on the ledge beside her, breathing rapidly. “I…I need a minute,” he gasps out and closes his eyes for a moment before moving his mouth over to her breasts. He licks a line from the underside of one to its taut nub, circling her nipple with his tongue before closing his mouth around it and teasing it back up to a peak.

She moans in need but manages to only rake her nails across his back rather than buck into him. If he needs time, if this is the only time she could possibly lengthen for her Time Lord, then she’ll remain still as a statue as long as he wants.

He shifts his adoration to the other breast, mirroring his earlier actions and then biting down gently. Swiftly laving her nipple with his tongue, he glances up at her. She stays silent, watching him and brushing her fingers along his cheek, but when he looks up at her, she’s unable to resist moving a hand to wind through his hair and tug.

"I was afraid you’d leave me," he whispers as his lips drop down to her breastbone and trail a line of open-mouthed kisses up her collarbone and to the side of her neck. "I was afraid I wasn’t deserving of you. I was afraid…I was afraid of so many things."

"What changed?" she asks quietly.

"I was suddenly afraid that those things would become true if I _didn’t_ take a chance.”

Tears are mingling with the dripping water down her face. Words beat against her mind like a Gregorian chant, endlessly repeating in a three-part chord, but she keeps the song to herself for the moment. Words have power to him and she’d rather whisper them while they’re running or eating breakfast or taking out the rubbish than when they’re naked and hormone-ridden.

So she tells him ‘forever’, so she draws the word on his back, so she taps it into the skin of his wrist with her lips. And so he smiles so brightly that the TARDIS deems it acceptable to lower the lights even further. And so he takes a deep breath and stands up again, cupping her cheek softly before bracing himself on the wall and sliding his length deeper into her heat.

They both exhale deeply when he pulls almost all the way out, but then he’s thrusting back in, faster and faster until all she can hear is the sound of wet skin slamming into wet skin and the white noise of the water in her ear and the sound of his gasps, reverberating in her ear and through her entire body. Their interlude had calmed her down but she’s back up at the edge in less than a minute, poised to jump if he’ll only cut the cord.

They leap together, bound together in a dark blue parachute, and the ground never rises to meet them.

—-

They’re on the floor when she eventually opens her eyes, limbs jellified and minds pulverised. He must have lifted her down from the ledge, tucking her into his arms before collapsing; her head is pressed against his still panting chest and her legs are tightly wrapped around his slim hips.

"That was…" she breaths, her eyes glassy and refusing to focus.

"I know," he giggles. Giggles. It’s so endearing, he’s so light and carefree that she squeezes him into a vising hug and laughs into his chest. "We’re doing that again, yes?"

It’s her turn to giggle. “Yes. Soon.”

"I like the water. I like you all slippery, Rose Tyler. Slippery but caught in my arms."

"Mmm," she sighs and snuggles in closer. The water is still running and somehow it’s still warm. Not only has she forgiven the TARDIS, she loves the old girl again.

"I think the pool, next."

"Mmm…"

"And what luck: your new and improved vibrator will work in there! Care to test how many orgasms I can give you in the space of a minute?"

She also loves that sonic dildo.


End file.
